


Conscience

by estelraca



Category: Kamen Rider Decade
Genre: Ghosts, Grief/Mourning, Hallucinations, Multi, Revenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-12
Updated: 2019-09-12
Packaged: 2020-10-15 00:02:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20609555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/estelraca/pseuds/estelraca
Summary: Kaitou spent almost a year with them.  Enough to change him, enough to drive him crazy, but not nearly enough to fix him.





	Conscience

**Author's Note:**

> This is a very old piece of mine that I realized isn't available anywhere anymore thanks to the loss of LJ/DW comms. It's one of several pieces that this has happened to, apparently, so I'm going to be trying to export them over here so that they're all available hopefully indefinitely.
> 
> I am somewhat entertained at myself that my reaction to finding a group that really works well together and that I love seeing together has been, for over a decade, "okay but now what happens if we break it". I would blame my day job for my obsession with grief and mourning and moving on but I suspect it's also just a me thing. I hope people enjoy having this story available again!

** _Conscience_ **

They still come to him. Sometimes during the day, more often at night, and he knows he needs to make it stop but he can't.

"It's all right, Kaitou." That's Yuusuke, of course, because he's the one who comes alone more often and the one who's always saying things like that. "We're not going to hurt you. We just want you to help Tsukasa."

"Tsukasa doesn't need any help." He smiles, a bitter grimace. "Or didn't you notice?"

Yuusuke doesn't say anything, just chews on his bottom lip. He looks so damn young and so damn sad, sitting there, and Kaitou hates himself just a little bit more than he did before.

"You could do it, you know."

Natsumi sits cross-legged on his bed now, watches him as he gets dressed. They didn't sleep with him last night, so there aren't any bloodstains on the sheets or his clothes, and he's grateful for that.

She looks thoughtful, though her words are full of certainty. "If anyone can reach him, you can."

Laughing, he smiles at her, too. "No. Tsukasa never listens to me. If you two want him saved, you'll have to do it yourselves."

"Daiki…" Sorrow and understanding rise, fill her expression as she stands and moves toward him. "Daiki, we—"

He runs. There's nothing else to call it as he bolts from the room, from her words, from all that's happened in the last few months. He takes the time to lock the door behind him, though. There are a few things he still cares about, and the irony of a thief being stolen from never amused him much.

She's still gone when he comes home again.

They leave him alone for a few days, and that's somehow worse even though it should be better. It's a strange mix of relief and dull horror to finally come home and find them on his bed again. Natsumi crouches behind Yuusuke, hugs him tightly from behind, whispers into his ear, "It's all right, it's all right."

He shouldn't be able to hear her from the door, but he knows that's what she's saying. Knows the tone in which she's speaking, the soft broken inflection and awful emotion trying to escape through the words, and Yuusuke's looking at him again with haunted, hurt eyes.

"Daiki, please…"

He drops his bag, drops DiEnd, locks the door, never taking his eyes off the two of them. Natsumi's looking at him now, too, though she's still hugging Yuusuke, holding him tight so he can't disappear on them.

"They'll kill him, Daiki." Agony, frustration, sorrow, terror… how can Yuusuke be so expressive, so open, so willing to trust others with his heart? "They're learning, and if you don't do something—"

He kisses Yuusuke, fierce and hard, presses him tight against Natsumi and keeps him from talking about things that none of them can change.

They stay with him all night, hold him and let him do what he wants with them. He's gentle, for the most part, keeping the tight knot of anger and despair buried deep in his gut, and it's almost like it should be. Almost like it was, could have been, almost was, except that they're missing one.

There's nothing he can do about that, though, and it still feels good, holding Yuusuke tight against him while Natsumi is pressed against his back. Protecting, protected, not alone and lost, and this is the way it should be. The way they'd all promised him, silently, it could be, would be.

He wakes up alone, and there's blood all over the bed, all over him, sticky and liquid and far too dark to be from survivable wounds. The scent of it permeates everything; the taste of it is heavy and metallic in his mouth.

He sighs, because he long ago gave up on crying over this, and goes to shower.

It takes a long time to wash the blood off, far longer than the first time, but Tsukasa's not here to help him with it, either. When he's done he dries his hair, dresses, and takes a deep breath before going back out to clean up.

Natsumi's back, sitting at the table, sipping coffee and watching him gather all the bloody fabric into a heap to be thrown out. It's past time he nicked more bedding from somewhere, anyway.

"You know there's not really any blood there." Her voice is tender, soft.

"I know." And he does, in some part of his mind, but he'll see it and smell it and taste it for days if he doesn't get rid of it now. "Just like you're not really here, right?"

She doesn't say anything, but she's still there, caught by his gaze. They never disappear when he's actually looking at them.

"I know you're dead. I know you're both dead." His hands are balled into fists as he snarls the words. A challenge, a bitter challenge, and she should respond to it with something other than pity and sorrow. He hates being pitied.

She kisses his lips, lightly, wraps her arms around him in a chaste embrace and holds him.

"You people should have left me alone." His voice cracks, stumbles, but he can't keep his arms from grabbing her, holding her tightly against him. "I was fine. You never should have touched me."

"That's not what you really mean." She feels warm, feels solid, and his fingers dig in as deeply as they can. "You mean we shouldn't have left you. Either of you. And we shouldn't have. Not like this. And for that I'm sorry."

That's not quite true, either, not quite what he means. She's right that he doesn't regret the time he spent traveling with them, not really. They might even be the best months of his life.

Almost a year. Almost a year with Tsukasa and his people. Enough for him to start thinking that maybe everything would be all right. That maybe he had found a place, a people, that were what they seemed, and were strong enough to protect themselves from everything else out there.

Enough to start changing him, make it impossible for him to be what he had been before.

And then they came here, to this horrible, miserable world, where they dissected Heart because he was something strange, something unique, something inhuman.

(_He doesn't understand, even now, how anyone could look into Yuusuke's eyes and see something threatening. Terrifying, yes, oh yes, but not threatening._)

And they shot Soul, dropped her with a coward's sniper rifle, because somehow her terrible, human grief was more frightening than Tsukasa's cold emptiness, Kaitou's empty numbness.

(_She would have stopped them, made them think of what Yuusuke would want, and he maybe wouldn't have ended up standing silent and distant while Tsukasa carefully washed all the blood off him. Maybe wouldn't have woken up in the middle of the night and run. Maybe._)

"Why are you still here, Daiki?" Her hands cradle his face, force his gaze to hers. "Why are you still in this world?"

He shrugs, but it's missing his usual grace, is a convulsive movement that feels more like a shiver.

"You're here because you remember us." Her fingers stroke his face. "You're here because you care about us. And that's okay."

She kisses him again, slow and gentle, and he responds, closes his eyes without meaning to.

"That's okay." She breathes the words into his ear. "So please don't let Tsukasa forget us."

He means to say that's not possible. All anyone needs to do is look at Tsukasa to know he hasn't forgotten them, won't be forgetting them anytime soon.

But she's already gone, the arms that were hugging her now wrapped around himself, and there's no point in talking to thin air, is there?

"—suke! Yuusuke!"

He doesn't turn around at first, because there's no way the man who goes with the voice could have found him. Then his door opens, bangs hard against the wall, and he spins.

Tsukasa looks like hell. He's still as well-groomed as ever, but his face is thin, sunken, branded with the signs of sleep deprivation. His eyes are wild, haunted, though that fades after a few seconds, hidden away from the world under an ice-cold façade. The belt at his waist seems looser than before, though Kaitou can't look at it for too long. If he does his eyes will catch on Kivala's body, dangling from the left side; on the arcle from Kuuga's belt, chained to the right side, and that would be bad.

"Kaitou." Tsukasa's tone is casual, though he's balanced on the balls of his feet.

Ready to run. Ready to sprint away from another loss, another pain.

"Hey, Tsukasa." His own voice is steady despite the pounding of his heart. "Destroy any more military bases recently?"

It's the wrong thing to say, and he knows it before he says it, as it's coming out, after it's said, as Tsukasa's expression closes down even further. A blank mask, not even cold. Untouchable.

_Help him_, Yuusuke pleads with him, so very vulnerable and trusting. _You'll be safe together. Help him._

_Remember us, Daiki_, Natsumelon whispers in his ear.

"Tsukasa… let's leave this world."

"But…" Tsukasa's brow furrows, the mask cracking far too easily, his eyes losing their focus. "I haven't finished yet. I haven't stopped them. I haven't made them pay for… for…"

"It's all right." He steps forward, takes Tsukasa's hand, borrowing Natsumi's touch, Yuusuke's voice. "They don't want vengeance. He doesn't want to see you get hurt."

Tsukasa shudders once, opens his mouth to protest, but there's uncertainty in his expression now.

"Besides." Kaitou tightens his hold, crushes Tsukasa's fingers in his hand. "This world doesn't deserve us."

Doesn't deserve any Rider, hasn't since the moment they slit Yuusuke's throat while he was unconscious, ripped what they wanted from inside him.

They didn't kill anyone, going in, when there were three of them and they thought they'd leave with four.

They killed everyone going out, when there were two of them and everything was wrong.

_It's all right, it's all right,_ he wants and wishes and thinks he hears them whispering, and he closes his eyes so that maybe, just maybe, when he opens them he'll be able to see and touch them.

Arms go around his shoulders, someone's head rests against his. And maybe a broken Conscience that was never quite fixed is better than none at all, because Tsukasa quietly says, "Let's go."

They don't take much. Photos, mainly, though he wears one of Yuusuke's baggy shirts, ties one of Natsumi's scarves around his neck and shoves another into his pocket.

He doesn't see them before they leave, and though he knows he shouldn't he hopes they'll follow them. Hopes he'll still see and hear and feel them, because almost a year wasn't nearly enough.

And maybe now, with Tsukasa here, he won't wake up in the morning to find the bed drenched in their blood.


End file.
